10 Things I Hate About You
by nikkiRA
Summary: Oneshot, Blackwater/ “I don’t want to hear, Jake! I don’t want to hear some messed theory that will build up my hopes when all that’s going to happen is that you will be wrong and I will be broken, again.”


**Yay for Blackwater! **

**Anyway, I have another Jeah fic in the making. I'm obsessed. Like, seriously. **

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING. I don't own Leah or Jacob or anyone else you might recognize, and I don't own 10 Things I Hate About You. I really don't. I stole it from my ex. Lawls.**

* * *

**I hate the way you talk to me**

"Well hey there girlie-wolf, how are you this morning? Wait wait, let me guess. You're angsty, bitchy, and feeling sorry for yourself, right?"

I glare up at you, disgust written across my face.

"Fu-"

"Ck you Black," You finish for me, your smile too kind to accompany your words. You're just teasing, I know, but I wish you weren't. It would be much easier to try and convince myself to hate you if you treated me like shit. "You know, girlie-wolf, you're much too predictable for your own good. You should try and be a little more spontaneous. And that does not mean phasing and attacking my throat, either." You grin at me once again, your words mocking, because you know that's exactly what I had been planning on doing.

"You're-"

"An ass." You finish for me again, and I glare, which only causes you to flash me another heartbreaking smile. I open my mouth, but you beat me there.

"Stop!" I roll my eyes and get up.

"Whatever. I've had enough of this. I'm-"

"Leaving?" I stomp off, leaving you laughing on the forest floor, and I give you the finger, knowing you can't see it behind you.

"Put your finger down, Leah," you laugh, and I stomp off, more annoyed then ever.

**And the way you cut your hair**

You're constantly shoving your hair out of your face, and it's annoying. Annoying how sometimes, in the middle of the conversation, your hand will come up and shove aside your hair, or the way you sometimes flick your head in an attempt to get it out of your face, and whenever I tell you you're going to get whiplash, you just laugh and grin at me, ruffling _my_ hair with your fingers. I hate how, when we phase, your fur is so long that it picks up everything from the ground, and how sometimes you make me sit there and clean it. But what I hate most of all about your hair is that whenever I see it in your face, I get an almost uncontrollable urge to brush it aside myself, to run my fingers through it.

"Jake, why do you keep your hair so long?" I ask one day. You look at me surprised.

"Where did that come from?"

"Well, it's just, before, you said it was for Bella. But now you're not in love with her anymore, so I just wondered. Why? Does _Renesmee_ like it long?" I sneer, hissing the half-breeds name like it's a dirty word. You let out a long sigh.

"Leah, please, no Nessie bashing today. I'm not in the mood to kick your girlie-wolf ass."

I snort. "As if you could catch me."

You ignore this, instead thinking about my previous question. "I'm not sure. I guess I just like it long. Besides, everyone keeps their hair short. Quil, Embry, Sam-" You glance at me, to make sure his name didn't send me into hysterics. I roll my eyes at your concern. "I guess I just like being different."

I nod, thinking. Remembering. Remembering what it felt like, running my fingers through Sam's short, choppy hair. Then I think about running my finger through your hair, and I decide that maybe long hair isn't so bad after all.

**I hate the way you drive my car**

You're constantly on me about my car. I don't understand why you're still so fascinated with them- there's really no use for them anymore. It's much faster to just run wherever we want to go. But whenever we _do_ drive my car, all you do is complain. You never let me drive, insisting on taking the wheel, and then bitching the whole time.

"You know, Leah, you should really get your brakes checked out."

"Leah, you should get a new paint job. This one sucks. And why is it blue, anyway?"

"Your engines not running properly, do you want me to take a look?"

I never let you take a look. My car is perfect the way it is, and if you hate it so much, then you should just drive your own damn car. I happen to like my car, thank you very much. But then one day, you somehow suckered me into going with you to the bloodsuckers house, and I'm sitting there, trying hard not to breathe (how do you stand the stench?) when I hear Bella say, "Jake was my own personal mechanic. Never fixed anybody's car but his and mine," smiling up at you, as if you were part of some private joke. I can't help smiling, and I vow next time you complain about my car I'll let you fix it.

The leech, Edward, gives me a weird look, and I remember that he can read minds. I wonder what he's thinking about, what he thinks I meant.

Then _I_ wonder what I meant.

**I hate it when you stare**

You're always staring at her. Always, and I can't help but think of Quil, how he gazes at Claire as if she's the only thing in the world at that moment. That's how you gaze at Renesmee, not like she means the world, but like she _is_ the world. I hate the way you look at her, how you have no time for anyone but her. How everyone else in the world is pushed to the side whenever you see her. When you're like this, I remember why I hate imprinted people. Because suddenly, you have no time for anyone else, and people tend to get hurt, even if you don't intend to hurt them. Looking at the way you stare at her, I'm hurt. I wish you wouldn't stare at her like that.

There's something else, something I don't allow myself to think about. Because that's not all I wish for.

I wish you'd stare at _me_ like that.

**I hate the way you're never dressed **

Why are you _always_ naked? Being a werewolf, I understand that it's not always the easiest thing to stay constantly dressed, but you could at least make an _effort_. I don't walk around in a bra and underwear, do I? It's really not all that difficult, to hide some clothes somewhere. Especially considering you're always hanging around the leeches- I know they'd give you clothes. There's no reason why you have to go around, parading the fact that you can walk around half naked.

Or the fact that you look damn good doing it.

So maybe it's not so much the fact that you walk around half naked that bothers me. Maybe it's more the fact that I enjoy it far more then I should when you walk around half naked.

**And the way you read my mind**

By now, I'm fairly used to the pack mind. It's better now, with only you and Seth, whereas before I had 9 other boys whose thoughts I had to listen to, and who listened to my thoughts. As it is, it is much easier to block my thoughts and the thoughts of you and my brother then it was to block the thoughts of nine other boys.

Boys. Every girl says they want to know what goes through a boys mind, but I, for one, wish I was still in the dark. How I wish I didn't know a thing about boys and what went through their minds.

For one, they're dirty. I know that Embry showered infrequently, only when the rest of the pack complained about the stench. Quil could sleep _anywhere_, from a bed to the floor to the dirt, and he didn't mind anything. And you never worry about your hair. Seth is the only clean one in the pack, and that's only because I make him.

For another, they eat more then I ever thought possible. I can't understand. It's as if their stomachs are a bottomless pit. They shovel more food in their stomachs in one sitting then I eat in six months. And the thing is, they never gain a pound. Which is just not fair.

And then there are the girls. Most of them manage to hold back on their fantasies, mostly because they know I'll snap at them for it, but sometimes, they let slip. And some of those boys are _really_ dirty. I had even caught _Seth_ thinking about some girl naked before I yelled at him for it.

But by now, I was used to it. I was pretty used to having you and Seth know whatever I was thinking- when I was a wolf. But then, eventually, as you and I grew closer, you began to read my mind when we were in _human_ form. Which I was not okay with.

For instance, one day, we were sitting on the forest floor (as we often did) and I was thinking about the wedding. Sam and Emily's wedding, and the look Sam had given me that day. It was like the looks he used to give me, back when we were together. When he still loved me. You move closer, leaning your head against the tree so that it was close to mine.

"Leah, don't do this to yourself," you whisper quietly, and I let out a long sigh.

"He was happy, Leah. That's all it was. He was just happy."

Your comments aren't meant to hurt me, they're meant to bring me down to reality.

"I know." But that doesn't stop it from hurting any less. Even after all this time, one happy, love-struck look from Sam- a look not even meant for me- could send me spiraling.

"He's heartless, Leah."

"No, he's not."

I bite my tongue to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. I won't let myself cry in front of you.

You put a warm arm around me and pull me into your side. For once, I don't notice that it's you and that you're half-naked (as always). I just bury into you and try to get rid of my pain.

**I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. **

I was in a mood. A pissy, bitchy mood. And you were being annoying.

"Leah, Leah, Leah Clearwater, smile smile smile!"

I think that might have been a song, but I'm not entirely sure. You might have been singing, but then again, you also might have been trying to scare off dark creatures of the night.

"Get the fuck away from me Jacob, I'm not in the mood."

"What is that language? What kind of influence are you to poor, young, impressionable Seth, hmm?"

You take a step closer to me, a smile on your face, and I concentrate on not phasing. I like this shirt.

"Jacob Black, I swear, get back!" I hadn't meant to rhyme, but as it was, I did, and you give me a long look before you burst out laughing.

"Leah, did you just _rhyme?_"

"No," I spit, taking a deep calming breath. This is why I don't buy nice clothes. It would be so much easier to phase right now and bite him.

"Oh Leah, Leah, please don't get diarrhea!"

"Jacob Black, a poet you are not."

"Or gonorrhea! Then we'll go to a pizzeria in Korea!"

"I'm leaving."

"Leah Clearwater, one day you'll have a daughter, who will try not to slaughter..."

I have to turn away so that you don't see the grin on my face.

**I hate the way you****'re always right**

"No, you're wrong."

We're arguing again. About imprinting, ironically. I never thought there was anything to argue about over imprinting, but you found something. Of course.

You're telling me imprinting doesn't lead to marriage. I'm telling you you're wrong.

"I'm not wrong. I'm never wrong."

I snort. "No, it's true. Admit it. Remember that time you told me judgement was spelt with two e's, and I told you that it could be spelled either way? I was right, wasn't I?"

"What does that have to do with _anything?_"

"I'm just saying, I'm always right."

"You are not. You're right about a lot of things, maybe, but this you are not right about this. Imprinting means true love."

"It doesn't."

"Then what the hell does it mean?"

"It means..."

"See! You don't have a definition."

"I'm getting there!"

I roll my eyes. This should be good.

"Okay, I got it. Imprinting means you leave a mark, right? Well, when you imprint on someone, you become a significant part of their life."

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious. Everything is all cleared up now."

"Would you wait? Jesus. Basically, it means that you become what they need. And they become what you need."

"Exactly. And everyone needs a soul mate, right?"

"I just don't think that's right."

"And why not?"

You look at me intensely, so intensely I have to look away after a few moments.

"Because what if you've already found your soul mate?"

I look back into your eyes, and I wonder who you're talking about. If you're talking about anyone.

Your face erupts into a smile again, and you laugh. Can you stay serious for more then 10 seconds?

You're always right, and most times I hate that. But as you help me to my feet, I can't help but wish that you're right again this time.

**I hate it when you lie**

You ditched me for her again. And yes, that hurt, but I would get over it. I was a tough girl. I'd been through a lot of shit- being ditched for a three- seven? Twelve? Sixteen?- year old wasn't going to send me crying and hiding underneath my covers.

It's the fact that you _lied_ about it afterwards. I know that I mock Renesmee a lot, and how much you hate it, but that doesn't mean you should _lie_ to me. It doesn't make it hurt less.

You're a good liar, but I know you. I know you, and I see all the telltale signs, the tug at your sleeve, the smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Small things no one would really notice, but _I_ notice. You're lying to me, and it hurts.

You were with Renesmee, and I can understand that, even if I resent it. She's your imprint, and whatever the hell that means, I know that it's hard to be away from her. But you had _always_ made time for me, for us, to run. You always said it was the only time you ever really felt human, when you were with me, running, as a wolf. I laughed and called you crazy, but I always figured that I meant something during that time.

But then the stupid goddamn half-breed comes along and ruins it. And I know that even if you _hadn't_ imprinted on her, you'd still go to her, because she's just so fucking enchanting with her brown eyes and curls and smiles and the way she can make you _see_ things. Stupid damn half-vampire.

"Where were you?" I ask, even though I know.

"I went to see my dad. It's been a while, you know."

Yes, Billy. You went to see Billy. You tug on your sleeve and I stare at you.

"Oh. That's nice."

Yes, very nice. You smile and I want to rip it off your face. You smile but your eyes are nervous.

"Yeah."

I hate it how you lie, and I hate how much it hurts me that you lie.

**I hate it when you make me laugh**

You're _funny._ Which most people find endearing, but when have I ever been like most people? The fact that you can send me into hysterics just makes me angry. Sometimes I miss the days when I found you unbearably annoying. Something to be endured, never enjoyed. I wonder when that changed.

As it is, you're funny. But it's not just that you're funny- it's that you know what to say that will make me laugh. The way you make your humour match mine, so I don't have to pretend to laugh at light hearted jokes like I usually do. You know just what to say, you know how to make your jokes dark and moody or violent and bitchy, to match my mood. And you know just what to say to make me feel better. I hate that you can make me feel better, because it was so much easier when I was able to sulk on my own and nobody tried to make me feel better, let alone succeeded. I hate how you can draw me out of myself with one comment, and I hate how happy you look, whenever you succeed in making me laugh.

I hate how you can fool me into believing that my laughter means something to you. That _I _mean something to you.

**Even worse when you make me cry**

I don't even realise I'm crying until I reached up to brush hair out of my face and I feel the tears. And then the fact that I'm crying over _you_ just makes my cry harder.

You're so _stupid._ Stupid goddamn Jacob fucking Black. You make me angrier then anyone can, and that's a feat, I'll tell you, since everything and everybody makes me angry. But the way you infuriate me makes it so that I can't think straight, and all I see is red. And then, when you make me _really_ angry, angry enough to kill, I cry.

I'm crying now, and I can't stand that, because I think I've cried three times in my life. I don't cry. I find it stupid and useless, because what good does crying do, except show that you're weak? That you're broken? I'm crying over you, which makes me weak and broken.

I'm crying over you and you didn't even _do_ anything. Not really. Nothing more then what you usually do, which is adore her. I'm crying because you adore the girl you've imprinted on. How sad could I get? How depressed, how miserable, how sad could I get?

I know it's wrong to hate a child, but I don't consider the weird freak of nature (which is definitely hypocritical, but I don't care. Not now) as a child. And I hate her. And I hate you, for loving her.

And I hate you for making me weak. For making me broken.

**I hate it when you're not around**

It's ridiculous, to expect you to always be around. Of course it is. Because you do have a life, you do have other friends, but it's just that I'm so used to you. I'm used to being around you, to having your voice in my head when we're wolves and when we're human, too, since you know me so well. I'm used to seeing your big dumb smiling face, or used to having you invade my privacy, or used to you yelling at me when I mock the leeches you love so much. I'm used to you.

Today was one of those days when you weren't here. I don't know where you are- you didn't tell me, which I try not to concentrate on. _Stop it Leah, he's not going to tell you everything. You're not his fucking mother._

I try to convince myself that I don't miss you, that I don't care where you are. It doesn't work. All that results in is the knowledge that _you_ don't miss _me_, that you don't care where _I _am, and that does shit in making me feel better. I hate when you're not here, when I'm by myself. Seth doesn't hang out with me, either because he doesn't like me or because I'm his sister, I'm not sure. I hope for the latter, but I can never be sure. I'm _lonely _when you're not here. Which is just retarded, because all those times before, when it was just me, bitter, cynical Leah that nobody gave a shit about, I was never _lonely_. Pissed, for sure, but never lonely. But you go away for one lousy day and suddenly it's like I have my own personally raincloud floating above my head.

You come and see me when you come back from wherever you were, and I try not to let that go to my head. It's nothing.

"Hey Leah," you say, sitting down next to me. I'm on the beach, throwing rocks into the water. You take one out of my hand and launch it, and it lands with a plunk at least 5 feet farther then mine.

"Show off," I mutter under my breath. You grin.

"What are you doing here, all by yourself?" You ask, taking another rock and throwing it even farther. I let the ones I had in my hand drop to the sand. No use even attempting to throw them.

"You know, I don't know what it is, but people just don't seem to like me so much. I mean, I always thought I was a kind, caring, generous person, but apparently, I come off a little... headstrong."

You bark a laugh. "Headstrong. Indeed."

"Did you know people don't like me? Because it came as a shock to me."

I guess that came out more bitter then I intended it to, because you look me at me long enough that I eventually bring my head up to stare back.

"I like you Leah," you mutter, and I turn my face away just as you do the same, throwing another rock into the water.

**And the fact that you didn****'t call**

"I'll call you!" You shout as we separate, you going back to your leeches, and me going... well, I don't really know. I don't have many places to go.

"On what?" I ask, since I'm rarely at home.

"The phone, stupid." I roll my eyes.

"Whatever you say, Jake."

It wasn't that I stayed in my house all day, waiting for his call. Of course not- that'd be stupid. Desperate. I just happened to find a lot of things that needed to be done around my house. Chores that needed to be done. I mean, if I hadn't done the laundry, we'd have no clothes. And my room was getting really messy. As was Seth's. And yes, I did need to clean out the closet, thank you very much.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

The phone rang lots of times. The first few times, I let it ring a bit before I picked up the phone, trying to make my voice indifferent. Each time, it was either someone asking for my mother, or for Seth, or a telemarketer. By the fifth time, I screamed at the man on the other line, trying to sell my a vacuum cleaner.

And then the phone stopped ringing. And I stopped cleaning.

I was angry, yes. And I was hurt, yes. But mostly, I was angry at myself. Because this just reminded me of so long ago, sitting by the phone, waiting for Sam. Waiting for Sam to own up, for him to admit that he didn't want me anymore, instead of dragging me along. Waiting for a phone call that would never come.

I ran into the forest, stripping off my clothes before phasing. Then I broke into a run, pushing myself harder then ever before, until I didn't want to run any longer. Then I walked back, slowly, to where I had stored my clothes. Stupid Jacob Black, I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me.

**But mostly I hate the way I don****'t hate you**

But that's the thing. I don't hate you, just like how I don't hate Sam, even after all of that. I wish I could hate you- God knows things would be so much easier if I did. But I don't.

When I get back to my clothes, you're standing there, a sheepish expression on your face. I'm happy you're not a wolf right now, because I'm envisioning killing you.

"Hey Leah," you say, and I hold back a growl. I stare at you until you turn around so I can phase back and get dressed.

"You know, you really shouldn't be wandering around the forest this time of night, Jake. I hear there are big wolves here. Wolves that could tear you to pieces."

You turn around and immediately apologize.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you," you say, and I hate the fact that I'm just like a silly high school girl, all tied up over the fact that you didn't call. But I hide my feelings- I've gotten pretty good at that.

"Oh, whatever, I was hardly in the house anyway. I probably would have ended up missing it." You believe me, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad.

"It's just, well, I was talking to Edward."

The _bloodsucker?_ You made me go mental because you were talking to the fucking _leech?_

"About?"

You look at me strangely. "About imprinting."

I groan. "Jacob, I'm not talking about this again."

"No, just listen. I was talking to Edward because... because something's happened."

"Jacob, I have a feeling he knows you've imprinted on his daughter." I say sarcastically. You take a step closer to me.

"No, listen. I was talking to Edward about imprinting, and what it means. And he agreed with what I said. You know, about becoming what they need, and you becoming what they need?"

"Okay. Why were you talking about this to what's-his-face?"

"Because. I've realised something."

I wait. You don't say anything. "And...?"

"What Nessie needs and what I need is not a soul mate."

I roll my eyes, not letting myself feel anything after this proclamation.

"How do you figure?"

**Not even close**

"Well, don't you think it'd be a little weird, a werewolf and a half-vampire?"

"Well, obviously, but I mean..."

"Remember Nahuel? Don't you think it would make more sense for Nessie to be with him?"

"You know Jake, I don't really consider myself as a freaking half-vamp matchmaker. Sure, why not?"

"Well, it would make more sense, sense they're both of the same species, right? So Nessie doesn't need a soul mate."

Where the hell are you going with this? "Okay, so Nessie gets married to the weird half vampire, lives happily ever after, and you get to be, what? The best friend? I would have thought you were done with only being the best friend, Jacob."

My words don't cause a reaction, he just continues to stare at me, a goofy grin on his face.

**Not even a little bit**

"Yeah, I get to be the best friend. And maybe that wouldn't be fair, except that I've already found my soul mate."

"You're making no sense to me, Jacob. I'm leaving."

"No, listen-"

"No, _you _listen. You've imprinted on Renesmee. You will grow up and get married and be happy, because she is your _imprint._ No if's, and's, or but's about it."

"You're being closed minded."

"No, you're being an idiot!" I shout at you, because I'm angry now. Angry because you're building up my hopes, when you're only going to let them crash down again.

"Leah, stop," you say quietly, stepping forward and grabbing my arms. I guess I look like I'm about to completely lose it, because you bend down so I'm looking into your eyes. "Stop it, okay? Listen to what I'm trying to say."

"I don't want to hear, Jake! I don't want to hear some messed theory that will build up my hopes when all that's going to happen is that you will be wrong and I will be broken, _again_."

You blink once, twice, taking in what I say, and I realise that I just told you everything. That I just told you how I feel. _Fuck._

Then you grin. You _grin._ Why the hell are you grinning?

"Are you going to listen to what I want to say?"

"No," I struggle to get out of your grasp.

And then you kiss me. You fucking _kiss_ me, and when you pull away, you're staring at me like you stare at her. Like I'm the only thing in the world.

"You know Edward can read minds, right? Well, one day he caught me thinking about you, and that's why we were talking. I didn't understand how I could have imprinted on Nessie and yet feel this way about you. He explained it to me, helped me understand that imprinting wasn't loss of free will. Imprinting completes the part of you that was missing, but I wasn't missing _love_. Love had been in my pack all along."

"So, so you're saying..."

"I'm saying that I want to be with you, and no stupid werewolf legend is going to stop me."

And then you kiss me again, and all thoughts of vampires and imprinting and missed calls are wiped from my brain as I mould myself to you.

**Not even at all**

* * *

**I've realised I cock my head when I write. No wonder I have neck problems. **


End file.
